


Thankless Job

by milou407



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Repo! The Genetic Opera Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, First Kiss, Gen, Gun Violence, M/M, Mercenaries, Minor Character Death, POV Multiple, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Repo! Canon, Sort of? - Freeform, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Zydrate (Repo!), and by canon I mean, badass pepper potts, there's a tag for that???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-11-22 09:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milou407/pseuds/milou407
Summary: The streets of New York in the year 2121 have become the territory of a predator far more dangerous and cunning than your average criminal. This predator is discerning and only stalks a certain type of prey, so hypothetically there should be no cause for you to worry.Unless, of course, you have been lucky enough to receive an I.R.O.N. organ. These synthetic organs, created in 2101 by Howard Stark of Stark Industries and improved by his son Anthony, can replace any organ you possess, and often work better than the originals.And if you can’t afford the steep price that comes attached to synthetic salvation there’s no need to fret, for Stark Industries provides quite reasonable payment plans for the privilege of providing you with the enhancements you need, and some you don’t. Just sign on the dotted line, Reader, and hope that you can make your payments on time. Otherwise the Repossession Men will pay you a visit and they will take what they're owed.(A Repo! The Genetic Opera AU that no one asked for)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you've never seen Repo! The Genetic Opera, you absolutely should. I love that ridiculous movie more than is reasonable. For those who haven't seen it, and don't want to look it up on Wikipedia, there's a big company that sells organs, often on credit, and they have a team of people who will hunt you down if you don't pay on time. These people are called Repossession Men, and they are very good at their jobs. That's really all you need to know, but if you have questions, drop me a comment! (Drop me a comment anyway. Please, I live off of them. My children are starving.)
> 
> No one asked for this, but it also wouldn't leave my head, so. Here you are. 
> 
> Also, I was not kidding about the (Repo!) canon typical violence. It doesn't come up until later in the story but please take care of yourself!

If you were to walk the streets of New York in the year 2121, Dear Reader, you would see a much different world than the one of a hundred years before. Those dangerous streets, which you should not walk alone for the sake of your own well-being, have become the territory of a predator far more dangerous and cunning than your average criminal. This predator is discerning and only stalks a certain type of prey, so hypothetically there should be no cause for you to worry. 

Unless, of course, you have been lucky enough to receive an Integrative Resilient Organ Neosupport transplant, called I.R.O.N. for short. These synthetic organs, created in 2101 by Howard Stark of Stark Industries and improved by his son Anthony, can replace any organ you possess, and often work better than the originals. They’re expensive, yes, but you get what you pay for and I.R.O.N. organs are of the highest quality. Everyone has them nowadays, Dear Reader, to improve upon the poor genetics they received naturally. 

And if you can’t afford the steep price that comes attached to synthetic salvation there’s no need to fret, for Stark Industries provides quite reasonable payment plans for the privilege of providing you with the enhancements you need, and some you don’t. Just sign on the dotted line, Reader, and hope that you can make your payments on time. 

Because it’s those who can’t that this predator stalks. People who have fallen behind, who can no longer afford the organs so generously loaned to them by Obadiah Stane (for Anthony Stark disappeared from the public eye many years ago now, such a tragedy for one so young).

Unfortunately, this is the scene upon which our story opens. 

A young man, likely not older than thirty, runs through an alley. His breath comes quickly, and he sends panicked glances behind him as he flees, stumbling in his haste to get away from his pursuer. He bangs on doors and windows as he goes, gasping for help, but the occupants are either out or know better than to intervene because no one answers his pleas.

Something moves in the alley behind him, a slight shifting of shadows, but it is enough to send our young man into a panic and he falls to the ground, scrambling away from the specter. He corners himself behind a dumpster, and that’s when he starts begging. 

“Please, no, I’ll give you anything, _anything_, please-“ 

But his cries are cut short by the impact of a blunt object to his temple, knocking him unconscious. He slumps further against the side of the dumpster as his assailant retrieves his tool and sets down his case. The box opens with a quiet hiss and some smoke as pressure is released, and the predator retrieves a curious knife from within. The weapon is double bladed, one edge serrated and the other smooth and razor sharp, for delicate work. The predator leans over his prey, and murmurs a quiet apology, the same one he offers to all his victims. He tests the weight of the knife in his hand, as though it would have changed since the last time, the last hundred times he has done this. He clenches his fist around the blade and begins to work.

The blade makes little noise as it slices through skin, flesh, and sinew. The predator’s movements are perfunctory, there is little flash or joy in his practice, he would seem almost reluctant or bored if his face were visible through the mask he wears. Unenthusiastic though he may be, he is not squeamish or hesitant and the job is done quickly. The young man’s liver and heart are removed with as little mess as possible, a syringe is inserted into his vein and fills, shining with a glowing blue serum, and his body is left for the morning collection. 

The predator packs his harvest away in the same small cooler, cleaning the blade and storing it before swinging the case and his other tool over his shoulder. He strides down the alley with shoulders slightly hunched, making no noise as he moves through the maze of New York streets. He moves quickly and without fear, he is the most dangerous thing on the streets tonight. 

And so, Steve Rogers finishes a night’s work.

\----

Steve muffles a sigh as he drops his cooler at the deposit desk and forces a smile for Mollie, always chipper despite her morbid job. She returns the smile and starts removing the contents of the cooler, tagging and bagging the synthetic organs with efficiency. He moves on, swiping his ID to open a door marked “Repossessions”. The door slides open to reveal a combination bunkroom and armory, and a familiar figure lounging on the bottom mattress of a bunk bed. 

“You’re back,” Bucky looks up from a tablet he’s reading from, “Thought you said you’d be another hour.” 

“Quick job.” Steve pulls off his helmet and tosses it in his locker, stripping off the rest of his equipment and armored suit as he goes. Once he’s down to his undershirt, he goes over to the sink to splash his face with water, scrubbing his face with his hands. “And a good thing, too. I’m beat, and we’ve gotta be in the office in less than twelve hours.” 

“No, hey, if you’re back, you’re coming out with us.” Bucky swings his legs over the side of the bed and levers himself up to standing with the help of a gleaming metal arm. He stretches and reaches for his battered bomber jacket. “Tasha and Clint found a speakeasy nearby, and we’ve barely seen you all week. I’ll drag you if I have to.” 

“Buck, no, c’mon,” Steve definitely doesn’t whine, “I’m tired. I don’t want to go out. Plus, we’re on call tonight. We have to be on company property to respond if a new notice comes in.”

“That’s the best part! The bar is in the basement of an old research building; it’s technically Stark property. We’ll be five minutes away, max.” He walks over and slings the metal arm around Steve’s neck, drags him down so he can give him a noogie with his other arm. “You’re gonna deprive the world of this beautiful face? We paid good money for all this.” He squishes Steve’s face in his hand and makes a face at him in the mirror. Steve bites down on a smile and shoves him away, jabbing a finger at the ticklish space under his ribs. He ducks as Bucky yelps, and laughs at the affronted look on his face.

“You didn’t pay with money and you know it. You sold your body, though I don’t know why anyone wanted that mangy old thing.” It almost doesn’t hurt to joke about, after more than a decade. The affection in Bucky’s eyes and his easy grin go a long way to easing the dull pang in his chest. 

“It’s not my fault everyone wants a piece of this.” He claps a hand to Steve’s shoulder and steers him away from the sink, the beds, the sweet call of sleep. “Come on, Tasha will have my balls if we make her wait.”

“Yeah, you wish.” Steve laughs at the wink Bucky throws him and they walk out the door like that, shoving at each other and stepping out into the New York night.

\---

The bar is exactly what he feared; dark with blind spots everywhere, people huddled around the bar itself and at tables in the back. It’s only through a feat of divine intervention (or perhaps divine engineering) that Clint can spot them, and they’re waved over to the table he’s commandeering with Natasha. 

“How cool is this?” Clint says, downing half his beer in one go. “A bar in the basement of an R&D building? I knew Howard Stark was on the level.” 

“Or his employees just know what’s what,” Bucky returns, sliding into the half-circle booth, casually stretching one arm across the back. “I always thought Howard would have been too uptight for something like this.” He reaches to steal a sip of Natasha’s drink, but she slaps his hand away and mutters something dark at him. He retreats, pouting and rubbing at the red mark forming.

Steve shifts, trying to get comfortable enough to ignore the itch between his shoulder blades. He hates going out unarmed. Although, with the four of them together, they’re never really unarmed. “How did you hear about this place? They don’t seem friendly to strangers, the doorman looked like he wanted to eat us.” 

Clint nods at Natasha’s bent head. “Tash has a contact, used to be Anthony Stark’s personal assistant. She’s a senior V.P. now, but she still slums it with the admin assistants when she’s in the mood. Pepper, I think. Nice lady, great rack.” He hisses and jerks away from where she got him in the ribs. “What? I’m allowed to look.”

“Yes, but you’re not allowed to be a pig about it.” She lifts her head and sends Steve a thin smile. “Ignore him, Pepper is lovely. How was your night, Steve?”

“Fine, mostly quiet. We got a notice about a half hour ago, pretty quick job.” He shrugs a little. “You? Still filling in for Stane’s assistant?”

“Yes, and I’m starting to see why he left. The man is impossible to work with, and this coming from me.” She finishes her drink, sets the glass down gently and taps her nails on the table-top. “I would almost rather be out on call, it’s only so long before his obstinance drives me to violence.”

Bucky grins wickedly, “C’mon, Tash. We all know that’s not a long drive.” He ducks out of the way of her first jab, but winces when her shoe connects with his shin. Her small, pleased smile hints that she’s not as offended as she’d like to be. “Alright, enough chit-chat and maiming. I got Steve out of the Tower, so _someone_ owes me a drink and I intend on collecting.”

“Don’t be a dick, Barnes, get everyone one while you’re at it.” Clint finishes his own bottle and sets it next to Natasha’s. “I don’t have to be back at that hellhole for another nine hours, and I plan on being drunk for at least four of them.”

“Coulson’s gonna kick your ass again, Hawkeye,” Steve scolds, but he does it fighting a smile.

“Maybe that’s what I’m aiming for, Captain.” Clint winks back, and Steve allows the chuckle it draws out. Maybe he has been staying in too long. He’s forgotten how much he likes hanging out with his team.

“Yes,” Natasha interrupts, and all eyes turn to her. She’s using the tone of voice that means she has a plan of some kind, and she’s focused on the crowd near the bar, with a sly smile on her lips. “We should get another round.”

“Now we’re talking!” Clint goes to slide out of the booth, but Natasha grabs his arm and holds him in place. 

“No, Steve should go get it.”

“What?” Steve whips his head around from where he’d been surveying the other patrons in the bar. “Why? I don’t drink.”

“No, but there’s a cute guy at the bar who’s been sneaking looks at you, and it’s been too long since you spoke to another human being.” He opens his mouth to protest and she cuts him off with a look. “Not counting people at work or one of us.”

“She’s right.” Steve stares at Bucky, who just shrugs. “When’s the last time you had a conversation with someone not connected to your work?”

Steve’s mouth hangs open while he tries to think of a rebuttal. The most frustrating thing is that his mind comes up completely blank. “That’s – it’s not – I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? He’s a guy at a bar, just go talk to him.” Clint raises an eyebrow in response to Steve’s offended look. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“And you know we’re gonna give you shit until you do it.” Bucky slides a credit card across the table and settles back against the back of the booth. “Might as well cut your losses.”

Steve stares at the card, grumbles about traitors and betrayals of years of friendship and gets up from the booth. He returns Bucky flipping him the bird in kind and walks towards the bar, shoulders hunched. Even after all these years, he still feels like he should only be five foot four.

He's surreptitiously scanning the crowd, trying to see if he can spot the guy Tasha said was staring, but he can’t identify anyone watching him. He makes it to the bar and orders for them all, handing over Bucky’s card and smiling at the bartender. 

“Those all for you? Seems like you’re starting out a bit strong.”

Steve whips around to find the man seated at the bar next to him smirking and raising an eyebrow at his order. He's attractive, though very pale under olive-toned skin, but his eyes are warm and dark and they draw Steve in immediately.

“I – pardon?”

“You’ve got, what, a double vodka, two beers, and a rum and coke all for you? I mean, you’re a big guy, but that still seems like a lot to handle all by yourself.” He’s a little offended, but the man’s eyes are teasing, and Steve’s surprised gape turns into a half a smile.

“Do you eavesdrop on everyone’s orders, or am I special?”

“Please. I don’t need to eavesdrop.” He toasts Steve with his own glass of what looks like gin and tonic. “Recovering alcoholic. I can identify a drink at twenty paces.” Seltzer dressed up as gin and tonic, then.

“And you’re a lot closer than twenty paces right now.” Steve takes his drink and settles one hip against the bar. “You’re wrong about two things, though.” 

“Oh? Pray tell, blondie, what did I get wrong?” 

“First, I’m not drinking these by myself. They’re for my friends.” He gestures towards their table, where his friends are all sitting – with their drinks. He looks back to the bar, suspiciously empty, then back at the table, where Clint is shaking his head at him from across the room, and Tasha is looking incredibly disappointed at his observational skills.

The man leans closer and whispers, “Are your friends ninjas?”

Steve laughs a little uncomfortably, “No, no. Just – sneaky.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” He takes another sip of his drink. “What’s the second thing?”

“Hm?” Steve tears his gaze from the guy’s mouth. 

“You said ‘first’, so what’s the second thing I got wrong? Come on, I have to know. I’m kind of a genius, this whole being wrong thing is very weird for me.”

“Oh, well, this isn’t a rum and coke. Just soda, I don’t drink. I have a – uh, medical condition.” 

“Dammit, there’s always something. Well, I’m sorry for assuming you’re anything but a god-fearing, temperance-supporting puritan Mister…”

“Steve. Just Steve.” He holds out his hand to shake, and the man takes it with a hand rougher than Steve expected, with what feels like some very interesting calluses. 

“My pleasure, Just Steve. I’m Tony.” 

“Yeah, uh.” Steve blushes, Tony’s eyes are very warm, and this is not what he thought he was getting into coming over here. “I’m gonna- I’ve gotta get back to them, you have no idea what they can get up to when I’m not there.”

“I’m sure it’s not nearly as bad as what they get up to when you are there.” Tony smiles again, eyes crinkling. “It was really nice talking to you, Steve.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you too, Tony.” He bites his lip and takes just a little leap. “Maybe I’ll see you here again? Sometime soon?”

“Are you inviting an alcoholic to hang out at a bar?” Tony raises a single eyebrow.

“I – goddammit.” Steve huffs when he sees Tony trying not to laugh. “Fine, then. Guess I won’t see you.” 

He’s walking back to their table in the back when he hears, “You might, if you look hard enough.” He looks back over his shoulder and sees Tony watching him walk away. He raises his glass in return and turns back around, a bit of a spring in his step. He gets back to the table and notices that they’re all staring at him, and Steve sighs.

“Go to hell, all of you.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s time to shed a little light, Dear Reader, on some events of the recent past of which you might not be aware. You see, Obadiah Stane was not who Howard Stark had intended to inherit his pride and joy. No, that honor fell to the heir apparent, his son Anthony. 

Unfortunately, Anthony didn’t always see this as the honor his father believed it to be. Anthony had a reckless youth, full of drinking and cavorting, doing all sorts of things that a father would never approve of, especially one grooming his son to be a leader. These particular extracurriculars also had the side effect of destroying Anthony’s body, while trying to escape from the prison that was his quicksilver mind.

Which, it turns out, is not such a serious diagnosis when your father’s company makes replacement organs. Livers, kidneys, stomachs, hearts, all replaceable when you have Howard Stark’s mind and resources. Word on the street is that there isn’t a single piece of Anthony Stark that remains from the original model, save his brain. (They haven’t yet come up with a substitute for that.) A different whisper on the street says Anthony didn’t want any of the upgrades given to him by his father. They say he protested the entire time, that he would have rather been left to die than to be made synthetic. Rumor is that’s why they called him “I.R.O.N. Man” before - well, before. 

They say it’s why he disappeared mere months after his father’s death. They say it’s because he’s more machine than man, now. His body couldn’t keep up with his mind, and he outgrew all the prosthetics they made to keep him together. They say that’s why he hasn’t been seen in public in years. Others say he’s dead, and that’s why Obadiah took over. Some say Obadiah had him killed, or that he’s been locked in the bowels of Stark Industries forced to create for endless profit.

But you shouldn’t listen to these things, Dear Reader. They’re just rumors. And nothing good has ever come from rumors. 

\--- 

“Pepper!” Tony steps out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair and yelling through the towel. “_Pepper!_”

“What, Tony?”

He absolutely does not scream, he lets out a suspiciously high-pitched sound of surprise, and that’s what he’ll take to his grave. He could have sworn Jarvis was putting her through on a holo-call, not bringing her directly to the shop and it was _rude_ of his A.I. to let her in without notice. 

Pepper is rolling her eyes when he removes the towel from his head, “We had a meeting scheduled, Tony, I’m not here unexpectedly.”

“A meeting? A meeting about what? I thought being dead to the world meant I didn’t have to deal with meetings and bureaucracy anymore.” He shudders in disgust, crossing to a console to authorize Jarvis to run a blood toxicity test. 

“I have some plans for you to approve, and I’m here to remind you that you have a meeting in the morning with Yinsen and Obediah about the next iteration of your arc reactor.” She sets an impressively tall stack of files on a different bench, he’ll have to remind Jarvis to file them later, and then crosses her arms. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I can’t just want to see you, Pep, my sunshine, moon of my life?” Jarvis beeps a warning disapprovingly at him from the computer, blood toxicity above acceptable levels. Tony swears under his breath and looks around for where he left his zydrate. The stuff is awful, but it’ll keep him from dying for at least a little while longer, so it’s worth it.

“You can. You just don’t.” Her tone says icy disinterest, but her raised eyebrow is what betrays her. He’s got her, he knows he does. “What is it?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing, the crisis has passed. You don’t need to worry about me. But, uh, if you happened to, I don’t know, come across me, say, in a bar, would you say I looked good?” He is the epitome of casualness, no one has ever been more casual than him in this moment, even when he realizes he forgot to put a shirt on for her to judge. He pokes at a model trachea someone (DUM-E) left on the table. It’s fine, but there needs to be more support for the voice box. 

She relaxes her posture a little as she sighs, faux-serious expression giving way to one of – pity? Oh, fuck no, absolutely not. “Oh, Tony. You know you can’t – “ 

“Yeah, yep. I know exactly what I can and cannot do, thank you.” He turns away from her, he will not entertain that expression in his lab. No. Where the fuck is – he finds the crate of blue vials under a table, right where he left them “I’ll look over the plans and get them back to you soon. Will that be all, Ms. Potts?”

He can hear her sigh, exasperated and sad and goddammit, he can’t do anything right. “That’ll be all, Mr. Stark.” There’s a quiet whisper as the doors glide open and closed behind her. 

He lets out a sigh of relief, and a little of disappointment. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself, but dammit, he also doesn’t want her pity, Jesus. “Jarvis, warm up the chair please.”

“At once, sir.” The dentist-chair/torture machine in the corner of the lab buzzes gently, mechanical arms stretching and readying for the procedure. Tony loads the vial into the insertion arm, and settles into the chair, calling up the holographic control display. Normally he wouldn’t allow anyone to fuck around with his body (heh), but he built this system himself, and with Jarvis operating, there’s no one he trusts more. 

Parameters defined in the algorithm, he just has to sit back and relax as the used vial is extracted from his chest, and the new one is inserted. A heat he hadn’t realized was building in his chest dissipates, and he sighs in relief. Once the chair releases him, he pats DUM-E’s mechanical arm and heads back to the bedroom attached to his lab, an extension of his quarters (prison). Tony roots around a bit for a clean, somewhat flattering shirt, until Jarvis interjects, “Sir?”

“Yeah, Jarvis?” 

“Another folder in the archives was found, marked ‘Backup Plans’. Do you want me to scan and sort it like the others? I could also, perhaps, send some to Mr. Yinsen for him to look over?” 

“Sure, J, let me know if you find anything interesting.” It was nice to know that Jarvis hadn’t given up on him, even when everyone else had. Sad, but still sweet. Tony smooths the flesh colored bandage over the arc reactor, dimming the tell-tale blue light before pulling on his shirt. “Daddy’s going out, don’t wait up. Activate the dummy tracker but continue vitals and toxicity monitoring.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony leaves his bedroom and crosses to an innocuous wall-panel which slides back after a fingerprint and cornea scan to reveal a hidden elevator. He steps into the elevator and pushes the basement button, and as the doors slide closed, he hears another, more tentative, “Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t ask for my opinion, but I believe you look nice. I’m sure your friend will be very pleased.”

Tony grins and straightens his sleeves as the elevator comes to a gentle stop. “Aw, J. You sure know how to make a girl feel special. This is why you’re my favorite.” 

And so, in a calculated risk, Tony steps out of the elevator into the backroom of a bar.

\-----

He waves at Darcy behind the bar, taking his favorite seat at the back corner, where he can see everything fairly comfortably. Darcy knows him well enough to have his dressed-up seltzer water ready, which would be sad except, well. Tony hasn’t left the tower in years, his measure for what’s sad and pathetic is kind of off.

It’s been two weeks since he met the elusive “Steve”, and his trips to the bar are now bordering on compulsive. Before everything went down with Stane and the company, this would have been the tamest thing he’d ever done. Now, he gets sweaty and panicked if he doesn’t have his back to the wall, and even then, he’s tense and ready for anything to happen.

Not that he thinks anything is going to happen. There’s nothing left in him that anyone would want, except his brain. And that’s pretty safe where it is. Maybe that’s why he likes Steve so much, because he genuinely doesn’t want anything except maybe another conversation at this absolute dive of a bar. Maybe Steve just wants to hang out with some random guy, get to know him a little, maybe be friends. 

Or maybe he’s just fucking delusional and he’s never going to see the guy again. 

Tony winces and makes himself look away from the door, pulling a stack of napkins closer to him and making grabby hands at Darcy until she rolls his eyes and gives over a pen. He starts doodling at first to keep his eyes off the door, but as usually happens he falls into a rhythm. It’s a bit harder without Jarvis to help, but he ends up making good progress on some pseudocode for the region-restricting and automatic failure software Obadiah had wanted thoughts on. 

He’s shaken out of his world of satellite tracking and kill codes and back into the noisy, dark bar by a semi-awkward throat clearing directly next to him, making him jump. 

“Jesus!” Tony spins around and presses a hand over his – well, not heart exactly. The metal over his heart. “You could kill a guy, sneaking up on people like that.” 

“Sorry.” Steve ducks his head, the tips of his ears turning pink – fucking adorable. “You were very focused, I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

“Was I? I must have lost track, I was waiting for someone.” He recovers enough to send Steve a wink, to watch that blush spread again. “I think I found him though.”

“I wasn’t sure, and I had work – I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” Steve shrinks in on himself, and it’s bizarre how small he can make himself seem, for such a large man.

“Hey.” Tony reaches out and touches Steve’s arm gently. “It’s okay. You’re worth waiting for.”

Steve looks up shyly and smiles. Look at that goddamn smile. That little grin is more real than any Tony’s seen in years, and that’s why he keeps coming back. 

“Thanks, Tony. Uh, can I buy you a drink? Or not a drink, if you’re not drinking?” He sounds so goddamn hopeful, where did this guy come from?

“Yeah, no, absolutely.” Tony grins right back. “Buy me a drink, tell me about yourself, Steven.”

“What do you want to know?” Steve motions to Darcy slightly awkwardly, like he’s never ordered a drink before. Tony rests his chin in his hand and his gaze sweeps over Steve entirely, his expression settling into something a little more serious before he says:

“Everything.”

\-----

“Interesting.” 

“Sir?” Natasha waits silently at the door for further instruction, tablet lighting up her face in the dim office. Obadiah Stane stands with his back to her, facing the plasma screens that hang behind his desk. He’s got a tracking screen open, red dots making trails around a map of the city, and a smaller area enlarged with a single dot tracking around a floor plan. Headshots of her team, the ones on duty anyway, their vitals on display. 

Stane is focusing not on the trackers, but on another screen on display, charting patent expiration dates and stock prices. She tries to read the list he’s making, but he moves in front of it before she can get a good look. She ducks her head in case he chances a look back at her, the absolute picture of subservience. 

He taps a screen in front of him, emphasizing points on his list, then sighs and turns away. “Nothing, Ms. Rushman, thank you. I’ll need you to send a note to Pepper to reach out to her contact in Research and Development, inquire about the timeline of adding satellite tracking to the automatic failure software, and set up a skeleton patent application, I don’t want to have to wait around for the paperwork.”

“Yes, sir.” Natasha – Natalie here, but always truly Natasha – makes a note on her tablet. “And is there a particular criteria that you want me to base the testing group on?”

“No,” Obadiah says, “Just those who have outlived their value.” He clicks through the plasma screens again and she sees faces she knows so well flick by; it’s Clint and Bucky on call tonight, her little hawk and the maddening soldier. She is acutely aware that this man could disappear any of them and no one would know, only four other people would care. Her knuckles go white briefly on the edge of her tablet before relaxing. “That will be all, Ms. Rushman.”

“Sir.” She takes her leave before she does something she will regret and goes to begin a termination notice for whoever is unlucky enough to be on Stane’s kill list.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, warning for beating up on little Steve just a bit

“Tony?” Steve steps slowly out of the elevator and into the brightly lit lab. It’s somewhat familiar, the gleaming chrome surfaces bringing up memories that he determinedly shoves back in their mental box, but there’s just enough wire and circuit boards cluttering the tables and even the floor to make it more _Tony_ than – anything else. 

The man himself emerges from the innards of one of his robots and looks briefly confused but his face clears, and his bright smile pulls an answering one from Steve. “Steve! Hi, I forgot you were coming up.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t call or anything and it took me a while to find you. You’re not in one of the main R&D offices, and I got a bit turned around.” There’s an old but comfortable looking couch occupying one corner of the lab, but Steve stays standing awkwardly just inside of the elevator. 

Tony’s smile turns into more of a grimace, and he looks down at his hands, twisting the wrench in his grip. “Yeah, they’ve got me set up special. I think they’re trying to reduce property damage, the cowards.” Something inside of the robot sparks and pops, making Steve jump while Tony just frowns at it before diving back in. 

For a while Steve just watches Tony work, marveling at how focused he is, how his hands move quickly, testing and prodding attachments and bundles of wires. His own fingers itch for the pad and pencil he brought with him, or a tablet if he absolutely must. 

He must shift because Tony’s intense focus switches to him, and Steve briefly feels pinned before his gaze gentles, and they both feel the release of some measure of tension that had been hanging in the air. 

“Sit, sit.” Tony flaps a hand vaguely in the direction of the couch and Steve takes it as the invitation is represents. “If you’re going to be hanging about, you might as well be comfortable.”

“I can always leave,” Steve says, teasingly. They both know he would be sitting alone in the bunkroom if he wasn’t here, waiting for Clint and Bucky to return safe. “If you don’t want the pleasure of my company, I don’t –“ He stops abruptly when he sees the chair, tucked back in another corner of the workshop, and the memories come flooding back.

_He’s sixteen, fighting for every breath against the rattle in his chest. Bucky is carrying him through the streets to another lab, one that looks just like this one, to try and beg for help. Everything is hazy for a while, a mix of doctors shining lights in his eyes and Bucky hovering, looking worried and stubborn by turns. _

_Poking, prodding, then the sounds of Bucky arguing with doctors, angry and desperate. _

_“Whatever it takes! I’ll sign anything, just make sure he lives, make him better, **please.**” _

_Everything is hazy again, he’s feverish and struggling to breathe, only coming back to himself when there’s a hand on his shoulder, and Bucky is nowhere to be found._

_“Steven? Can you hear me? We’re going to help you, boy, but it’s going to hurt.” An accented voice warns him, as they strap him into the chair, there’s a pinch and he looks and sees a needle going into his vein and then his blood feels like it’s on **fire,** like his very cells are disintegrating and he **screams** – _

“Steve?”

_Then it’s years later and he’s supporting Bucky as they walk through those same doors, the gaping wound where his arm used to attach to his body haunting Steve with every step. He knows that the predatory gleam in the surgeons’ eyes means nothing good, but at this point he doesn’t care. _

_He signs on the dotted line, anything to help Bucky, and watches as they restrain him into the chair that looks like a torture device, with arms coming out of it. Then Bucky is yelling as they poke and probe and bring in a prosthesis to fit to him, and Steve sinks to the floor, unable to take his eyes away as they – _

**“Steve!”**

Steve is ripped back to the present by Tony’s worried voice, crouching a few feet in front of him, hands up to show he’s not a threat. Steve blinks and Tony shuffles a little closer, sitting crosslegged in front of where Steve is curled with his knees to his chest. 

“Hey. Are you back with me?”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m – I’m fine, sorry.” He swipes at his eyes and tries something like a smile.

“No, hey. Don’t apologize.” Tony looks around and his gaze lands on the chair, expression darkening. “One second.” 

Steve can hear shuffling from where he’s got his face pressed back into his knees. He looks up again to find Tony back where he was, a tarp now covering the chair entirely. “Better?”

“Yeah, Tony. Thanks.” He shakes himself and maneuvers up onto the couch, head in his hands. The old springs in the couch squeak again, and there’s a warm weight pressed against Steve’s side.

“You know, I don’t have much practice with the, uh, listening thing.” Steve raises his head in surprise at Tony trying to be _delicate,_ and Tony huffs in response. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m trying here. Just, if you _wanted_ to talk about it. I am a friend-type-person, and I have been informed that that’s something friends do for one another, listening.”

“You’ve been informed? What, did someone hand you a manual when we became friends,” because they’re definitely friends now, even if Steve wants to maybe try for something more, “‘The Care and Keeping of Steven Grant Rogers’?” 

There’s a shove to his shoulder, and he tips with it, more for effect than anything. “Would have been better if someone had, then we wouldn’t have you collapsing in the middle of my fucking lab.”

Steve sighs. “I’m sorry about that. It looks like – it reminded me –“ he shakes his head again, like a dog trying to get water of its ears – “I got to know a chair like that real well when they did this.” He waves an absent hand over his self and catches Tony’s confused look. “And again, when Bucky lost his arm.”

“’When they did _this_’?” Tony makes a similar motion and sits forward with something like fire in his eyes. “Who is _they_? And what is _this_?” 

“Tony, c’mon. It can’t be a surprise.” Steve feels color rising to his cheeks, something hot and cold at the same time, something like shame. “I was sick all the time as a kid, scrawny and barely able to walk down the street without keeling over. One winter, it got real bad and Bucky was so scared, he thought I was dying. He had to drag me into the hospital, and even then, there wasn’t much they could do, apparently. Double pneumonia, anemia, iron deficiency, weak eyes, weak heart, weak lungs, weak fucking _everything._” He breathes out harshly and flexes his fingers where his knuckles have gone white. “So, they strapped me to a chair – like that one – and stuck me with something, I still don’t know what, but it burned like hell and I woke up like this. Bucky signed his own life over to Stark Industries to make sure I still had one to live. And then I did the same for him when he lost his arm – vehicle accident, never found the driver. I signed, they strapped him in, and he had an arm back.” 

“Jesus Christ.” The look on Tony’s face can only be described as horror and it wounds something deep inside of Steve. He’s not surprised, he already knows he’s a freak of nature, but it’s still disappointing. “And now they’ve got both of you in contracts for life?”

“What? Yeah, I guess so.” Steve shrugs. “I mean, it was worth it at the time. And it’s not- I know people who have it way worse than me. My friend, she was basically bought out of this horrible human trafficking ring, so they’ve got her for life too, and she had no one ‘til she found us. And Cl – her other friend, he was deafened in an explosion when working a job with his brother, they rebuilt his ears and fixed his legs, so he’s with us too. It’s not so bad. We’re like family, we’re all we’ve got, and we’re all we need.” He’s rambling, trying to do something to assuage the awful guilty, haunted expression on Tony’s face. 

For once, Tony’s completely silent, pacing back and forth in front of the couch with the manic energy that infuses everything he does, but it’s turned inward, dampened somehow, and Steve doesn’t like it. It magnifies the uneasy feeling he’s had since he laid eyes on the chair, like everything had tilted slightly out of balance.

“But hey,” he starts again, trying to infuse some cheerfulness into his voice to break Tony out of whatever weird, trance-like state he’s in. “If I hadn’t undergone a Procedure, you never would have looked twice at me, so there’s some good that came out of it.”

It works too well. Tony’s head snaps around and focuses on him with that laser-like intensity that he had when Steve first walked in, only now it doesn’t ease up. He feels scanned, he feels seen, and Tony looks him all over before declaring: “No.”

“No?”

“No, if you hadn’t been tricked into a _Procedure,_ I would have still looked twice at you. Because you still would have that smile. And those eyes. And all – you.” The spell breaks again, and Tony looks away, the tips of his ears turning pink. “If we’d met before all that, I’d still have noticed you.”

“Yeah?” His voice is embarrassingly breathy, and he’s pretty sure there are stars in his eyes. 

“Of course.” The entire back of Tony’s neck is pink now, and he goes back to fiddling with something on his lab bench. He looks up and whatever expression Steve has on his face makes him duck his head again and throw an old towel at Steve’s face. “Stop looking at me like that. I would have found you and fixed you up, and you wouldn’t have had to do anything you didn’t want to.”

“My own knight in shining armor.” Steve grins and picks up his pad and pencil again. He starts sketching, reproducing the way Tony moves around the lab, turning the sleek lines and constant movement into flight and tech-influenced shining armor of his own. He feels Tony’s eyes on him again, but when he raises his own head to meet them, Tony is working intently at his own project again. 

\----- 

“Hey.” 

Clint catches the bouncy ball he’d been throwing against the wall (it’s a point of pride that he hits the same place over and over again, there’s a little indentation in the wall where the rubber had made a lasting impression over time) and looks over to the source of the voice. From upside down on the bunk, the man leaning in the doorway is just a tall drink of water in a suit, but he is a tall drink of water who Clint is intimately familiar with. 

(And he has it on good authority that he is the only one who is intimately familiar with this particular suit, thank-you-very-much)

“Hi.” Clint lets his momentum flip him off the bunk to land on his feet, and turns to survey his visitor, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Can’t I stop by just to say hello?” Coulson stays exactly where he is, but his eyes rake over Clint’s form with completely genuine appreciation. 

(Clint knows Phil can’t resist how his arms look in his uniform, which is the unofficial reason behind many late-night visits to Coulson’s office.)

“You can. You don’t, though.” Clint strides forward and invades Phil’s space. There’s no one in the office this late, besides Mollie reading her romance novels behind the acquisitions counter, so he reaches up and pulls Phil in by his tie, noses along his jaw to press a kiss below his ear. “So, what’s the occasion?”

Phil’s sigh is half pleasure and half resignation, and he pushes Clint further into the bunk room, so the door slides shut silently behind them. 

“There have been rumors –“

“Phil, there are always rumors.” Clint groans, pulling Phil against him again. “They’ve got rumors for every day of the week, it doesn’t mean they mean anything.”

“These are different.” Phil takes a hold of Clint’s arms, but purposefully, not in a sexy way. This is not how it usually goes when Phil visits him when he’s on duty. Clint frowns. “Clint, this is serious. They’re saying we’re going to be moving away from I.R.O.N. transplants, into a new biogenerated system that the R&D department is developing.”

“So? Same system, just different materials. Shouldn’t have anything to do with us.” 

Phil shakes his head. “They just sent over the specifics this evening. The bio organs are going to have an autodestruct system that allows operators to stop all function immediately from a remote location. They’ll be using satellites to make sure all customers stay in approved areas while they’re still in debt.”

“So if you don’t make payments, they can kill you from anywhere?” Clint shouldn’t be horrified, especially with his job description, but it all just seems so _impersonal._ “How is this going to fly with patients? It’s going to scare people, and scared people are more likely to run.”

“Routine hardware updates, slipping it into the fine print. They’re going to label it as a way to protect the investment, making sure that people who really deserve the service can access it.” Phil rolls his eyes. “As if some people are more deserving of healthcare.” 

“Wait, but if they can terminate people via the network, does that mean they’re not going to need a Repossession team anymore?” Clint looks at Phil and sees his own worry mirrored there. He steps back, puts some distance between them. “Phil?”

“It’s not something that’s come up officially yet, but it’s not far off.” Phil steps towards him and his hands twitch as if they want to reach out, but they clench into fists at his side. “You have to understand, they can’t let you go. Any of you. You all have too much information, too much influence.”

There’s a cold, sinking pit in Clint’s stomach that’s just opened up, and he doesn’t know what to do with this information. “So what’s this, are you here to fire me? Or eliminate me? Is this some kind of gentlemanly warning that I don’t have the handbook for?” Christ, if he has to watch as Phil kills him, or worse _fires_ him, Clint is going to lose his goddamn mind. 

“No! No, Clint, of course not.” And Phil just looks so hurt, shit, he just wants to crawl back in his bunk and forget this conversation ever happened. “We’re going to figure this out, we have some time. We’ll talk to the rest of the team and some contacts I have.” He inches closer and Clint tries to stay cool but fairly collapses against him. For all he was convinced Phil was sent to make him disappear, he’s never felt safer than when Phil’s arms are around him. 

“They’re not going to take you from me,” Phil murmurs against his hair, “I won’t let them. You’re the most important thing in my life, Clint, you have to believe that.” 

And because it’s Phil, Clint does.

\---- 

“Steve.”

“What the hell?” It takes a lot to make Steve jump, but even he startles when a voice speaks to him in what he thought was an empty hallway. “Buck?”

Bucky steps out from an alcove with Natasha right behind him, with the most serious expression Steve’s ever seen on his face. “Hey, Stevie. Can we talk to you for a sec?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’m gonna go meet Tony though, so if we could make it quick-?”

“That’s what we want to talk to you about.” Natasha steps out from behind Bucky, and Steve is _absolutely_ going to give them shit for lurking about together in abandoned hallways. She crosses her arms and looks sternly at Steve. “You and Tony have become quite close recently. We just want to make sure you’re being safe.”

“Okay?” Steve frowns a little and crosses his arms right back. “We’ve been getting to know each other. That’s not a crime, last time I checked.”

“No one’s saying it is, Steve.” Bucky holds his hands up in surrender. “All we’re doing is asking you to be cautious. You barely know the guy, we don’t want you doing, or saying, anything stupid.”

“Hell, Buck. Who do you think I am?” Steve’s heart drops into his stomach. “I wouldn’t say anything, you know that. You _both_ know that. I wouldn’t put you all in danger like that, no matter what.”

“Aren’t you even a _little_ curious about Tony?” Natasha steps forward so they’re almost toe to toe, and Steve feels the strength of her stare like a physical push. “From what you’ve said, he rarely leaves his lab, he never leaves work, you don’t know where he lives. Isn’t that a little strange to you?”

“_Strange?_ Of course, I think it’s strange!” His arms fly up in exasperation. “He looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in years, that’s fuckin’ weird! But you know what else is weird? Letting people stick you with needles full of some mystery cocktail and waking up two feet taller and a hundred pounds heavier. Or getting your arm ripped off in an ‘accident’ right outside Stark Industries headquarters, and then getting a mechanical one put right back on. Or being able to shoot things most people can’t even see. Or – I don’t even know, Natasha, half the things you do seem to be physically impossible for most people.” 

Steve drags his hands down his face and takes a deep breath. He knows they love him and they’re just trying to show him they care. But he’s not a child. “Listen. I appreciate this, really. And I won’t tell you not to go snooping around for his file, because I know you already have. But _please._ I really like Tony. He makes me happy, he makes me laugh, and when I’m around him I can forget about being on the night shifts. I’m being safe, I promise. So, when you find his file and read every word, don’t tell me. I want to learn that stuff when he wants to tell me, not before.”

Natasha would never do anything so obvious as shift her weight guiltily, but her face goes slightly more blank, and she takes a step back before nodding. Bucky punches Steve in the shoulder (with his flesh and blood arm, so Steve knows he isn’t mad) and says, “Fine, pal. It’s your funeral.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Thank you so very much. Now, I’m late, and I still have to pick up lunch. So if you’ll excuse me – “ He gives them a quick wave before he walks away. 

Natasha watches him leave, cold dread settling into her veins. “We should have told him.”

“He wouldn’t have listened.” Bucky crosses his arms again. “Plus, they’re completely stupid over each other. One of them is going to slip up and say something, and then it’ll all be out anyway. And Steve won’t hate us for telling him too soon. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in their stupidity.” She looks up at him, doubtful. 

“If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s Steve doing something stupid for love.”

“Love?” Natasha snorts.

“Did you see him just now? Definitely love. And feelings that big always lead to fallout.”


	4. Chapter 4

“No, Pep, I know. Believe me, I am very aware of what Obie wants. And I’m going as fast as I can, it’s just going to take time–“ 

“We don’t have time, Tony. Mr. Stane wants to start testing the automatic failure software by the end of next month, and we still don’t have a working model to show him. I need you to push a testing version through, if not for the universal software, then something for at least one of the bio organs.”

Tony groans and drops his head to the bench in front of him, bringing it back up to wipe at whatever sticky, oily thing was now on his forehead. “_Fine,_ yes, I get it. But you have to make _him_ understand that complex computer programming doesn’t just _appear,_ and it’s going to take me time to make exactly what he wants, not to mention the fact that it won’t just be computer programming, there’s the biological component which makes everything more complicated, and really I should be consulting Banner because this isn’t exactly my area of expertise–“

“You know if we have to consult anyone it’s going to add at least another two months before we have anything remotely workable, even in a test group.” Pepper is so experienced at cutting through his bullshit, it isn’t even fun anymore. Tony sighs his most put-upon sigh, but she doesn’t even flinch. Shit. This is serious.

“Alright, okay. I’ll have something testable soon, just for you.” Pepper rolls her eyes over the videophone connection, and Tony can hear the elevator open behind him. He freezes, a rookie mistake, and he can tell she notices.

“Tony, is someone there?”

“Nope! No, absolutely not. How could anyone be here, I’m a princess in a tower, locked up with no one allowed to visit.” He looks over his shoulder and sees Steve stepping out. “Love you, bye.”

“Tony, what–“ Oh he’s going to pay for this later, he already knows. 

“Hi, Tony. You ready?” Goddammit, Steve's puppy eyes do it to him every time. Absolutely worth the lecture he’s going to get from Pepper later for hanging up on her. 

“Yeah, sure. Just let me–“ He inputs some commands on the screen he’d been working on before Pepper called, sets up the dummy software to run while he’s gone. 

“Sir?” 

“Yeah, Jarvis?” Tony frowns a little and looks at the schematic Jarvis has pulled up for him, he usually doesn’t interrupt when Steve’s here. 

“I found an old design that might be of interest as a replacement for your current…apparatus, and I was simply inquiring as to whether you wished for me to make a prototype.” 

“Yes, yes, fine. Use anything you might need, and make it look as if I’m running the ship, will you, J?”

“Of course, Sir. Have a good outing.”

“We will.” Tony looks over to Steve to find him leaning against the wall, a fond smile on his face. “What?”

“Nothing. He took a bit getting used to, your imaginary friend,” Steve makes a vague motion at the ceiling, “But now it’s just. Very you.”

Tony ducks his head and can feel his ears getting hot, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Steve shrugs, and his smile turns into more of a smirk. “Just nice you have someone to talk to when you’re shut up here all alone.” 

“Well, I’m not alone so much anymore.” Tony turns away from that face, so he doesn’t have to look at that stupid, beautiful smirk again. “Now that I have you bothering me at all hours, whether I like it or not.” It’s suspiciously silent behind him, and Steve’s smile is even wider when he finally turns to look. “What now?”

“Nothing.”

“Is that your new favorite word?”

Steve laughs, and that’s even more beautiful than when Jarvis first spoke, more addictive than the glow of zydrate, and more exhilarating than almost anything Tony’s ever experienced. “No, I’m just – glad you let me bother you at all hours.”

“Yeah, well. Count it as my community service for the year.” He finally sets everything to sleep mode and scheduled some modules to run while he’s gone. “Are you ready, or do you want to stay and chat in my lab all day? I can leave you alone with Jarvis, if you want to spend more quality time together.”

“No, that’s okay. I think I’d rather spend my lunch break with you.” Steve knocks his ridiculously wide shoulder against Tony’s own.

“Oh right.” Tony punches the elevator button, and they start moving soundlessly. “I forgot. Secretaries who are also models don’t get much time for lunch.”

“Tony.” Steve laughs again, “I’m not a model. I’m an admin assistant, I just do whatever needs doing.” 

“Mhm. Sounds exactly like what a model who is undercover as an administrative assistant would say.” Tony steps out without looking backwards at him to enter the small park. Housed on a less well-known roof, the park is often deserted, but he always has Jarvis check for him before sneaking away to enjoy some much-needed sunshine, while still staying on company property. It’s not much to look at, just a couple of benches and a nice square of grass, but it’s better than nothing.

And it’s certainly better than sitting in the lab that’s been feeling incredibly claustrophobic as it’s gotten increasingly difficult not to jump Steve’s bones. He just…sits there, sketching or laughing or just talking and Tony just wants to go over and smush his face or something slightly less G-rated. It’s taken a significant amount of self-restraint not to act on the stupid feelings-type-definitely-not-love-thing he’s currently nurturing, only because he doesn’t want to fuck over the best friendship he’s never had.

It’s fine. He’s dealing. Badly.

Tony sighs a little and flops down onto the grass. His eyes are closed against the sunshine, but he opens them again when a shadow falls across his face. He squints up to see a beaming Steve standing over him. “You’re blocking my sun there, Rogers.”

Steve snorts. “Didn’t even realize you knew what the sun was, being shut up in your workshop so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, real original. Gimme.” Tony makes grabby hands for the sandwiches Steve brought with them. Steve tosses him one, and he catches and tears into it. There’s very little better than an authentic roast beef sandwich from whatever magical deli where Steve has connections, and Tony has killed men for less. 

They eat in silence for a bit, enjoying the sunshine and the company. Steve sits back on his hands and looks over the New York City skyline, sighing, and Tony continues to watch him, cleaning up the remains of their lunch. It’s quiet for a while, and Tony is memorizing the angle of Steve’s jawline when the man himself remarks, “It’s a great view.”

“Yeah, it is,” Tony agrees, eyes now glued to where Steve’s pulse thrums in his throat. He looks away when Steve glances back, ignoring any heat that spreads across the back of his neck at being caught watching. Tony clears his throat and focuses very hard on some pigeons sitting on the edge of the roof, “It’s nice to come up here, even just for a little bit. Especially when things are a bit – much.”

“For the genius, lone-wolf head of Research and Development of Stark Industries? C’mon, there’s nothing you can’t handle.” Steve scoots closer and nudges their shoulders together. He’s warm, Steve is always so warm, it’s a shock particularly in the cold air of the lab. It contrasts sharply with the cold weight sitting in Tony’s chest as he lies to Steve’s face. 

“Yeah, sure. That’s why they have me alone, ‘cause I don’t play well with others.” He knows his smile is more of a baring of teeth than an expression of happiness, but this hits too close to home. He’s not proud of who he was, and he’s barely started to become someone he actually likes, he doesn’t really want to be reminded that he’s still being punished for who his dad was. He turns his head quickly, startled out of the thought, at the gentle touch of fingers to his cheek. 

“I think they were probably intimidated. It can’t be good for the ego, having to work in the same room as this brain.” Holy shit, have Steve’s eyes always been this blue? “They gave you your own space so you would stop making everyone else look bad. You did them all a service.” 

Tony snorts. “Yeah, okay. Only you could paint me as such a giving soul. Everyone else would say it was selfishness.”

“Well, maybe they don’t know you like I do.” Steve brushes some hair away from Tony’s face. “Maybe they don’t see you like I do.”

“How do you see me?” Good God, if his voice were any breathier, he’d be a heroine from a romance novel. But there’s nothing that could make him take back that question, there’s nothing he wants to hear more than the answer to that question.

“Never knew you were one to fish for compliments.” But Steve’s teasing grin fades to something achingly real and impossibly soft. “You’re so _bright,_ Tony. And I’ve never met someone so real, so genuine and unafraid to be themselves. I’ve never met anyone like you, no one could even come close. You’re beautiful, Tony, you _shine._”

Tony is breathless, and he has no response to that except: “Goddammit, Steve, if you don’t kiss me _right now–_“ 

He doesn’t know how that sentence would have ended but it doesn’t matter because Steve is leaning in and pressing their lips together and it’s everything Tony has ever wanted. Steve kisses gently, almost hesitantly, even after Tony reciprocates enthusiastically. It makes Tony want to slow down and savor it, which is why he pulls back with a sigh. 

“I’m legally obligated to tell you that this is an absolutely terrible idea.”

“Best terrible idea I’ve ever had.” There’s nothing that can stop Tony from kissing that shitty little grin off Steve’s stupidly beautiful face. 

\----

Steve is fairly sure he doesn’t actually skip down to the bunkroom to report in for his night shift, but he’s less sure there’s not a permanent grin on his face from spending an afternoon kissing Tony in his lab. It’s only been a few weeks, but he’s not sure that grin is ever gonna fade, and he’s increasingly certain he doesn’t want it to.

Whenever they both have a free moment, he’s up in the lab or they’re in the rooftop garden together. They’re not _always_ making out like teenagers despite being grown ass adults, but it is how they spend a fair amount of time.

There’s one wriggling worm of a thought that won’t leave him alone, the one bit of doubt to ruin his happiness. He still hasn’t found the right moment to explain to Tony about his moonlighting as a Repo Man, but. He’s just.

Damn it, he’s terrified. 

He’s not a complete dumbass, no matter what Bucky says. He knows something like this will change everything. He knows, too, that Tony’s not being completely truthful with him, either. He still hasn’t figured out exactly what Tony’s holding back but he’s not going to go snooping for it. Tony will tell him when he’s ready. He’s pretty sure it’s something along the lines of “I was sold to Stark Industries as a baby, learned shapes by reading blueprints, colors by playing with red and black wires, and didn’t see sunlight ‘til I was twenty.”

Okay maybe not exactly that. But there has to be a reason Tony is so twitchy and pale, and even in the worst-case scenarios he’s dreamed up nothing has measured up to “I’m a glorified intern by day, mass murderer by night, and on top of that I have serious self-worth problems that carried over into my brand-new body that my best friend bought and paid for with his soul.”

He’s still working on the phrasing.

He knows that what he feels for Tony goes beyond fleeting attraction or even casual affection. There’s something that’s _right_ about it, something he feels deep in his bones, and it’s not easy or without its difficulties, but he knows he’s not going to give up on Tony, even if he was grown in a lab at Stark Industries. There’s a name for this thing he’s feeling, but he is absolutely not going there, no matter how many sideways looks Bucky throws at him when he comes back from seeing Tony, flushed and happy.

He may be distracted, but he’s not completely oblivious, which is why the mood in the bunk hits him like a wall when he walks in. His whole team is waiting with grim looks on their faces, focused on Natasha’s tablet. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Clint forces a sardonic smile. “Nothing more than usual, just a complication. Tasha knows the mark.”

“Oh, shit.” Steve winces, and looks over Bucky’s shoulder at the tablet at the unlucky person. Ho Yinsen, apparently a senior engineer for the company, is a spectacled, gentle looking man. No one ever deserves being put on their list, in Steve’s opinion, but he can’t imagine this man doing anything that would warrant Natasha’s attention. Then again, it’s not in Steve’s job description to question why certain people are on their list and questioning whether the list is really for the good of the people _definitely_ isn’t part of it, but he can’t help it. Regardless, thoughts like that aren’t going to solve the problem in front of them. “I’m sorry, Natasha.”

“He was a good man.” Natasha’s face is more stoic than usual. “He cared about helping, about healing where he could, and I enjoyed working with him. One of the best people here.”

This is high praise, particularly from Natasha. “I can take him, if you want.”

Natasha opens her mouth to protest but closes it at the gentle hand Bucky lays on her arm, and at the look of understanding he gives her. 

“We all know you’re perfectly capable, Nat. No one’s doubting your inherent badassery. But you also don’t have to put yourself through something unnecessarily painful if you don’t want to.”

She sighs and pushes his face away with an affectionate hand, and hands Steve the tablet with the other. “Take it. Otherwise this one is just going to mother me the whole time. I don’t put up with that nonsense, not even when it was from my own mother.”

Steve holds the tablet gently and looks again over the kind, intelligent face, next to a man’s entire life, packed into a short, bulleted list of facts. He waves his team out of the room, Natasha reluctantly snug under Bucky’s metal arm and Clint already texting Phil on his communicator. He takes a few deep breaths and starts to put on his gear.

It’s a means of survival that Steve’s developed, letting the darkness fall around him. On nights like these, Steve Rogers lets everything go. The trusted friend, the brother, the lover, all that’s good in him is left to die. 

He steps back and lets the monster rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Hopefully it'll be once a week from now on
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit begins to hit the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...I'm sorry in advance?
> 
> Also, please heed the warnings, shit gets a little darker here on out.

“Yinsen! My absolute favorite engineer, what have you got for me?” 

Tony strides into his second favorite, maybe third, place to be not even remotely paying attention to his surroundings. All his digging and trawling in the old as fuck archives has finally come to fruition, he found _all_ of them, all four plus an extra just because he’s a good guy. He sets Jarvis to scan the documents to find the loophole that has to be there and gives himself a moment to revel in the feeling of doing something _good_ for once.

“I can only show you if you pay attention,” Yinsen tuts. “I don’t know what could possibly be more important than the device keeping you alive.”

“Every day is full of surprises.” Tony claps his hands together excitedly. “Show me, show me!”

Yinsen gives him a fondly exasperated look and begins to explain: “As you know, the biggest flaw in your father’s design for you is the reliance on zydrate as primary fuel.”

“Which _I_ improved on, to improve efficiency and reduce waste. Howard just wanted to make sure that after all the upgrades, my organs had enough power to keep them going, he didn’t seem too concerned with the poison his creation would be spewing into my body.” There might be a slight tinge of bitterness in his voice, which is probably the reason behind Yinsen’s quick sympathetic look. 

“You improved, yes, but it still wasn’t perfect. Zydrate was never going to be a sustainable option, so I’ve had come up with something cleaner to use.” Yinsen pulls up some files on the projection screen, old weapons schematics. He sees guns and a prosthetic arm, knives, a bow, some kind of shield? 

“What the hell are these? Who uses a bow any more, much less a shield?”

“Specialty weapons requests for repossession officials are streamlined, marked as high priority but low revenue yield. They’re generally deemed not important enough for you to bother with, it’s not likely you would have encountered them. But what they look like isn’t important, it’s what they’re made of.”

Tony leans in, interest piqued. “Nano-carbon fiber? Or maybe ceramic and para-aramid, I know we’ve been using that in prototypes for more durable upgrades.”

“_Vibranium._” Yinsen’s eyes are alight behind his wire-frame spectacles, he looks decades younger when he speaks, gesturing excitedly with his hands. “Very light, very durable, and an enormous capacity for redistributing and resonating with power. Now, this is not the kind of thing that people keep in stock, they are afraid that it is too difficult to control. And, since your current model regulator uses a liquid, you would need a different containment and consumption mechanism. But!” He turns and types at his tablet, and another schematic opens on screen, one of Tony’s from when he was playing with alternate metallic power source to kick his zydrate dependence. “If we fabricate something based on this design, _your_ design –“

“Then all you need is the power source.” Tony turns and puts his hands together in mock supplication. “Please tell me you used your magic powers to locate my salvation.” 

The light dims a little from Yinsen’s expression, but he hides it with a comforting hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Not magic, simply good connections. But yes, I found a few scraps that I melted down, and the end product might be of use to you.” He takes a small container off the nearby bench and hands it to Tony. When he opens it, the metal inside shimmers with a hypnotic light, powerful in an understated way. 

“Yinsen–“ 

“And! I took the liberty of fabricating a model for you,” Yinsen turns back to the table and gives Tony a larger box. “I sent the updated model I used to Jarvis, you can improve upon that as you wish–“ 

“_Yinsen._” Tony sets the box back down and pulls Yinsen into a tight hug. He’s definitely not crying, there’s probably just rain coming in through a window. Even though they’re in a basement. It could happen. “Thank you. I’ve never – just, thank you.” Yinsen grips him back just as tightly, and Tony lets himself enjoy it just for a second before he pulls away. 

“You’re too good to me. Anything you could want, you have it. You want an island? I’m pretty sure I have the capital to get you an island.”

“No, of course not. The I only–“ Yinsen stops suddenly and waits, focusing intently on something. He strides over to the holoscreens and calls up security footage. Tony joins him, but he can’t see anything except a quick black streak in the corner of one of the cameras. 

“What the fuck–“

“Not enough time.” Yinsen’s face has gone deathly pale. “I thought I would have more but…no matter.” He takes both boxes and shoves them into Tony’s arms before pushing Tony through the door to the adjoining lab. “Stay here. No matter what you hear, you cannot leave this room. And please, stay quiet.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Tony stumbles back, almost tripping over the benches and boxes that litter the unused lab. “Yinsen, what’s happening?”

“Please, don’t worry for me.” He taps the boxes, “If these work the way they should, it will have been worth it. Be _safe,_ Anthony. Remember: ‘The wild, cruel beast is not behind the bars of the cage. He is in front of it.’”

“What the _fuck_ does any of that mean?” The door is slammed in his face before the sentence is all the way out, and Tony’s stuck in this stupid unused back lab. But even an unused lab should have –

Tony dumps the boxes somewhere and goes over to the darkened terminal, which he awakens with a few keystrokes. It’s actually almost harder to get it running again than it is to let himself into the camera system, and he’s treated to a multi-camera view of the lab he was just forced out of, where Yinsen is packing away the blueprints that remain spread out on tables while the door to the outer hallway shakes in his hinges. 

“Shitshitshitshit-“ Tony paces the confined space of his prison quietly, vacillating between storming out to drag Yinsen back into this safe place with him and staying put to honor Yinsen’s wishes. He hasn’t made a decision when a loud bang from the other room forces his hand. Rushing back to the screens, Tony holds his breath as the light from the hall illuminates a hulking figure standing in the doorway, a medical type case in one hand and a large, round object in the other. There’s only one job he knows of that requires a black, almost shiny, easily cleaned suit, a helmet with glowing eyes, and a carrying case. 

_Repossession Men._

No, no, there’s no way. Yinsen wouldn’t be that stupid, there’s nothing he has that isn’t real, nothing that would have drawn the attention of the Repo Men, unless –

The cold realization hits Tony as the imposing figure of the Repo Man strides forward. With a lightning fast flick of the wrist, the figure’s arm launches what looks like a discus, no, a _shield,_ towards Yinsen, still bent over his papers. 

“_NO!_” Tony shouts, slamming fists down on the console, and then flinching as the word leaves his mouth. On the screen, the shield ricochets off of the wall and glances against Yinsen’s temple, a softened blow that still leaves him slumped over the table. 

The figure turns on the little screen, towards the door Tony knows he’s currently hiding behind. It stalks forward, and Tony glances around frantically for something, anything. He grabs a fire extinguisher and waits beside the door.

Quiet footsteps approach, barely audible until they’re just outside the door. It slides open, and Tony holds his breath for the few seconds it takes the monster to cross the threshold. In a quick, reflexive movement, Tony brings the fire extinguisher up over his head, and down on to the back of the Repossession Man’s skull. 

The figure crashes to the ground, unmoving, but Tony doesn’t stop to check, vaulting over the body to check on Yinsen. He’s still out cold, but his pulse is strong. Tony has to get him out of here, _now._

He goes back to the smaller lab to grab his new power source and reactor, taking them out of their boxes and stashing them on his person. He kneels next to the Repo Man and starts pulling the mask off. If he can get their face clear for Jarvis’ facial recognition, he can find and punish this son of a bitch for hurting Yinsen, _after_ the immediate danger has passed. Also, who fucking designed these suits? They look stupid, and the helmet mask thing is really hard to get off. They should have –

Oh. 

No.

_Steve._

The past months of Tony’s life flash before him. Steve’s laugh, the little snort he makes when he knows he shouldn’t be laughing but just can’t help it, his smile, more addictive than any drug Tony’s ever tried. How warm he is, how just being near him made Tony forget that he was a dead man to the world because to Steve he was _somebody._

But there are other images flashing before him now. Photos he’s seen from the Repossession files, newspaper articles about the people who had been found dead, others that had simply disappeared. 

Steve’s reluctance to talk about his past, the cushy secretary job that Steve always seemed embarrassed and hesitant to say much about, how Steve was always around, like he never seemed to leave the building. It all makes a disturbing amount of sense.

Steve’s long eyelashes flutter, like he’s waking up from an afternoon nap rather than blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Tony’s heart clenches at how beautiful he is, even in the black trappings of a killer. 

Tony pushes himself back and stands on autopilot, lurches towards where Yinsen is still hunched over the table. Tony rouses him enough to get his arm up and around his own shoulders and starts towards the door. He sees the tablet he had been working on when he came in and takes it with him as he leads Yinsen out of the lab. He has to get to Pepper, she has to know something about this, about why Yinsen was targeted, and how to fix it, there has to be a way to fix it. Pepper will have the answers, and then Tony can start fixing his monumentally fucked up personal life.

He and Yinsen hobble into the elevator, and Tony braces him against the wall in order to free an arm to press the button for Pepper’s office. He takes out his tablet and reopens the files he abandoned earlier. He uses a finger to sign in the authorization box, and hovers over the send button. Tony looks up and makes eye contact with a very bleary Steve through the closing doors, holding it until he’s out of sight and the slight movement of the elevator indicates that they’re moving. He sighs and presses ‘send’, because no matter what they’ve done, even who and what they are, no one deserves this. 

Then, Tony closes his eyes, and for the first time in a long, long time, he lets the tears fall.

\---- 

Steve comes back to awareness with a splitting headache and a sunken feeling in the pit of his stomach indicating that something is very, very wrong. It takes a second for him to place where he is, the lab unfamiliar, none of the warmth and good feeling he associates with Tony’s. As his head clears, his memories start to come back too, flashes of movement, entering the lab and seeing the mark, taking aim. Hearing a sound from the back of the lab, reacting, then pain in the back of his head and darkness. 

He blinks at movement in the doorway, two blurry figures departing, one supporting the other. He blinks again and everything clears a little more. Even half blinded, he would recognize the shape of Tony’s body anywhere, and Steve’s heart almost stops. He’s completely frozen, unable to move or reconcile what he’s seeing with the two distinct boxes he had stuffed his life into. But when he makes eye contact with Tony and he sees the haunted, broken look on his face, he knows that those two boxes have collided. Worse, he knows that Tony knows, and with that knowledge he has destroyed everything that they had started to build together. 

He has to get up. He has to get back to the mark, or at the very least down to the bunkroom so that he can tell someone, and they can finish the job for him. 

He has to get up. He must.

But maybe he can take another minute, first. Just one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll make some of it better, I promise.
> 
> Quote by Axel Munthe.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...once again, I'm sorry. 
> 
> Also, please heed the updated tags! It gets a bit rough in this one.

The elevator ride up to Pepper’s office is the longest of Tony’s life, but he hardly expects it to be otherwise under the circumstances. Yinsen is still barely conscious, a little blood trickling from the cut on his temple, and Tony knows his own face is drawn and defeated. Pepper is going to be horrified, and rightly so, but he's out of options.

The high-rise office is dark when they stop out of the elevator, unusual even at this late hour. Pepper lives at the office almost as much as Tony does, it’s weird to see it unoccupied.

Jarvis brings the lights up so Tony can settle Yinsen in Pepper’s chair and grab the first aid kit from her desk. 

“It’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be fine.” Who exactly Tony is trying to reassure at this point is uncertain, the adrenaline is starting to wear off and he can see his hands shaking where he’s cleaning Yinsen’s cut. 

“Tony, you have to leave.” Yinsen’s voice is weak, but urgent. “You are in terrible danger.”

“Says the guy who was just nearly murdered,” Tony grumbles, pressing gauze against the cut to stop the bleeding, “But fine. I’ll look both ways before crossing the street and everything.”

“Don’t _jest-_“ He falls silent as the door slides open again, and Tony lifts his head to ask Pepper for – 

That’s not Pepper. That’s Obadiah Fucking Stane.

Something is wrong here. 

“Obadiah?” Tony says hesitantly, still crouched over Yinsen. He shifts his body so he’s between the two of them. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve stayed late the past few weeks to monitor the development of the new satellite transmission software. We had a breakthrough, and I saw on the security cameras that there was a commotion in the laboratory space, so I came down to check on the situation myself. Is everything alright?” Obie steps forward, then a little to the right, like he’s trying to see what’s happening.

“There was an accident, Yinsen got hurt. I’m trying to stop the bleeding; can you call for medical attention?” He throws away the soaked cloth and reaches across the desk for the additional gauze, but he freezes at the soft click of a gun cocking. 

\----

Once his head stops ringing enough for him to sit up and push himself standing, Steve slowly makes his way out of the labyrinth of laboratories. The elevator is, strangely, currently disabled, so he ends up taking the stairs. What he knows he should be doing is locating where Tony took the mark (_Yinsen,_ his name is _Yinsen_) and finish the job, in addition to ensuring that there are no witnesses. Steve also knows that he will not be doing that.

He throws his helmet against the bank of lockers and sinks to the floor against them. He presses the call button on his wrist cuff, letting the rest of the team and Phil, as their handler, know where he is, and that something’s gone wrong. He settles in to sit and wait, to spend some quality time with the ache in his chest.

In less time than expected, Phil and Clin burst into the bunkroom with a palpable air of menace, despite the fact that they’re both in pajamas. Clint clutching his bow, and Phil similarly armed with a tablet. They both relax a little when they see that Steve is unharmed, and Phil approaches slowly.

“Steve? Is everything okay?”

Steve shakes his head mutely. Phil frowns in response and clicks through some screens on the tablet. “I can see that your mark is still alive, did something go wrong?”

Steve nods and chokes out, “_Tony._ He…he was there. He _saw._”

Clint inhales harshly. “Oh shit, Cap. I’m so sorry.”

“And that’s it. There’s no coming back from that.” Steve tilts his head back in an effort to keep the tears from falling. “He hates me.”

The door slides open again and Bucky and Natasha hurry through the door, Bucky immediately kneeling next to Steve and engulfing him in the kind of hug Steve’s been craving. He pulls back after a minute and puts a hand on the back of Steve’s neck, looking him straight in the eye. “How fucked up did everything get?”

A bark of laughter makes its way out of Steve’s chest against his will. “The most fucked.” 

“Well, do you know yet how you’re gonna fix it?”

Steve shakes his head again. “Don’t think I can fix this one, buddy.”

“Hey now. You’re our Captain, you can fix anything.” Bucky tips their foreheads together. “And even if you can’t, you’re gonna be okay. Might not seem like it now, but you will.”

Steve musters up a strained smile. “Thanks, Buck.”

Natasha bites her lip and shifts closer to Clint. “Did you tell him?”

“Didn’t have a chance before you two barged in.” Clint nudges Phil forward.

“Tell me what?” Steve shifts back from Bucky, wiping his cheeks quickly. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, we, uh.” Clint scratches at the back of his head. “We’re pretty sure we got fired.”

Steve blinks at him. “What?” He looks over at Phil and demands again, “What?”

Phil sighs and opens a file on the tablet before handing it over. “We received this a few minutes before we got your signal. The reason we arrived so quickly is because we were already on our way to find you when you sent it.”

Steve scrolls through the notice, mostly legalese he doesn’t have the focus to decipher. “What does it mean?” he asks absently.

“In essence, it releases the four of you from your contracts and agrees to reimburse you any back pay you should have been owed. It cites a certain clause in your contracts which indicates that the contract can’t be signed under duress, and essentially admits to taking advantage of all of you when it was signed.” Phil shifts a little. “I also have the option to take a very reasonable severance package and leave the company with no ill will, or instead take an incredibly generous raise and stay, but that’s beside the point.”

Steve blinks in confusion again. “So…we’re free?”

Phil nods. “You can do anything you want. Stark Industries has effectively relinquished any claim they may have over you, for employment or otherwise.” 

Steve stares at the legal document that has given him back a future. “Who authorized this? I can’t imagine Obadiah giving us up that easily.”

Phil and Natasha share an uneasy look. Phil sighs and looks at Steve in something like sympathy, or pity. “That’s the particularly…problematic part.”

“What? Why?” Steve frowns, scrolling to the bottom of the document, and just stares. There’s a spiky, scrawled signature, barely recognizable as a name, but it’s the printed identifier below that catches his attention. 

_Anthony Edward Stark_

“But…he’s dead. Hasn’t he been dead for years?”

“No one has seen him for years, true.” Natasha gives him a significant look. “No one has reported seeing him for years. But suddenly you start seeing a brilliant inventor, tell him of your troubles, and now we’re released from our contracts?”

“He wouldn’t. He couldn’t have used his real name, could he? That would be –“

“Ridiculous? Impulsive, foolhardy?” Phil raises an eyebrow. “Sound like anyone you know?”

_Courageous, selfless, honorable._ Steve bites his lip and traces the signature with a delicate touch. “Yeah. Yes, it does.”

“Sir?” Before Steve can reconcile this new information with the Tony he just saw walking out of his life, Jarvis pings his tablet. “There appears to be a situation developing on the sixty-eighth floor. I believe this footage may be of interest to you.” Despite being a machine, Jarvis manages to sound strangely tense and when the video starts playing, Steve realizes why. His heart hurts when he sees Tony carrying Yinsen through the office, settling him in a chair and fussing over him. Steve, as well as Phil and Natasha watching over his shoulder, tenses when Obadiah enters the office. If Tony’s been hidden from the world for decades, there’s no way that Obadiah didn’t at least have a hand in orchestrating the whole thing. The very sight of him makes Steve’s skin crawl. 

But that’s not as distressing as seeing him pull a gun and aim it at Tony, Steve jolts to his feet in panic. “Jarvis, is this current?”

“Yes, sir. In Ms. Potts’ office. In times like these I have been programmed to contact the authorities, but something is blocking my signal and I can’t access any communication device outside of the company network. I am attempting to find a solution, but I would recommend hurrying, sir, as I don’t see this situation ending particularly well.”

Steve turns at the movement in his peripheral vision to find Bucky tossing him his shield, the rest of his team ready to go. He stares in surprise.

“What? Obviously we weren’t going to let you go up there alone. That guy looks fucking crazy.” Bucky shakes his head in disappointment. “And since you won’t leave it be, we’re coming with you to save your boyfriend’s ass.”

Steve has no words to express the wave of gratitude he feels for his team at that moment, so he nods and leads the way out of the bunkroom.

\----

“I don’t think medical attention will be necessary.” Obiadiah’s eyes are cold, the arm that holds the gun currently pointed at Yinsen absolutely steady. He looks like something out of Tony’s nightmares. 

Tony brings his hands up in surrender with slow, deliberate movements. “Obie, please. You know I’m not going anywhere, you don’t need a gun.”

“Oh, I’m fairly sure I do. We need to have a talk, Anthony, about your lack of focus these past few months. You’ve lost your edge, my boy.”

“My edge? My _edge?_” Oh, Tony was planning on staying calm but that’s clearly not a realistic goal. At the very least, he starts shuffling to the right, away from where Yinsen. “For the last decade, I’ve managed to produce every single thing you’ve demanded. All your crazy orders for cutting-edge technology every other week, every single fucking thing you’ve wanted I’ve made reality because you made it a _term_ of my continued existence.”

“And here I thought I was doing you a favor,” Obadiah sneers. The gun follows Tony as he moves away from the desk. “Since your cowardly father tried so damn hard to keep you alive, I thought it would be a shame to let all that work go to waste. But now I’m of the opinion that I should have sold you for parts. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.” 

“Well, what changed your mind? Since you were so goddamn generous before.” Tony’s eyes flick to the security camera, swiveling on its base. Jarvis has protocols in place for what to do if Tony’s life is ever in danger, and he can only hope they’ve been activated now. 

“That agent that has you so distracted. What was his name? Steven?”

“Don’t you talk about him.” Tony very near snarls the words, unprepared for the rush of possessive rage that rises in his throat at the mention of Steve’s name. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, son. He has everything to do with this, ever since he batted his pretty blue eyes at you and you lost your focus. I had already slated you to be dealt with when the remote termination software came online, but he’s the one that got you bumped up the list. You have become doe eyed and emotional; you’re _useless_ to me now.”

“Then shoot me! Just fucking shoot me and have it over with, why even bother with this stupid fucking extended supervillain monologue?”

“Because, Anthony, there’s still something I need from you.” And with that, Obadiah shifts his aim and shoots Yinsen in the head. 

Everything goes still and quiet in the wake of the gunshot, the flash of red and the way Yinsen slumps completely in the chair the only things that Tony is capable of focusing on. Time speeds back up to a normal rate as Tony’s cry of anguish tears through his chest and out his mouth in a strangled yell. He crumples over the desk, barely staying upright, and his breathing goes shallow. He can hear, as if from a long distance, footsteps coming closer and a hand fastens in his collar. He is pulled upright and thrown backwards onto the desk. Tony looks up into Obie’s cold face, twisted and unrecognizable, and spits in it. 

“Fuck. You. You cruel, heartless bastard, he was worth twenty of you, you are nothing without him, without me or Pepper. You’re a fucking figurehead, absolutely useless and even my fucking father knew it – “ 

A backhand to the jaw cuts off Tony’s heated diatribe and he tastes blood. 

“You think I’m the figurehead, boy? You’re the one who disappeared and no one in the entire city noticed. Did you know that? There wasn’t a single missing person report filed, no one contacted the police, concerned that you weren’t there, because no one cared. The only part of you that’s ever been worth anything is this.” Obadiah taps a single finger against the reactor and Tony flinches. “Though, it is still imperfect. I know you still haven’t found a solution to the zydrate issue, but no matter. It’ll just up demand, and we’ve cornered that market. So really, there isn’t a single thing that I still need you for. Besides your last gift, the rest of you is just…waste.” And Obadiah pushes down and twists, then pulling the reactor core, still glowing a brilliant blue and flushed with zydrate, out of Tony’s chest. 

The movement sets each of Tony’s nerve endings on fire while flooding his veins with ice water. He blacks out from the sheer intensity of the pain and comes back to reality to see Obadiah holding the cylindrical object up, inspecting all the wires that have been ripped loose. The weight on his chest intensifies, breathing a now near impossible task, and he falls down to the floor against the desk while Obadiah watches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we begin fixing things
> 
> Kind of?

“Now, _that’s_ a beautiful piece of engineering. Your father would be proud, Anthony. It’s a shame you were such a disappointment in every other way.” Obadiah looks down at him, considering. “I suppose I could shoot you, but I want you to know that you’ve failed. That despite all the labor and parts we put into keeping you alive, you still ended up beaten and broken. Goodbye, Anthony.”

He turns on his heel and walks away. Tony listens intently to every footstep, for the barely audible noise of the door sliding open and shut signaling his exit. Then, Tony pushes himself up to sitting, and pulls both the prototype reactor and the vibranium that Yinsen (_oh god, Yinsen_) had given him only minutes before. He tries to open the section where the power source will sit, but his fine motor skills are suffering, what with the imminent organ failure that he’s currently going through. Tony’s cursing the goddamn thing when the door opens again and he freezes. 

Steve skids to a stop just inside the doors, four vaguely familiar people behind him, slightly blurry but he thinks he can make out Pepper’s favorite assistant, as well as another high up suit he sometimes sees in Legal. 

“Obie…left with the…reactor.” Speaking is really fucking hard when your blood oxygen is at less than optimal levels. “Have to make sure Pepper’s okay.” 

“We’re on it.” Having assessed the situation and clearly deeming Tony less than a threat, the redhead herds the other three people out of the lab, Man-Bun giving Tony a sharp look before he leaves.

“Steve?” God, his voice is pathetically weak, and he clears his throat before he tries again. “Steve, I could use a hand. Two, even, if you’ve got another one to spare.”

Steve’s gaze catches on the gaping hole in Tony’s chest before he drags it away to make eye contact. There’s so many emotions flying across Steve’s face, and honestly Tony doesn’t have the time or the emotional bandwidth to handle any of them right now. 

“Yes, Tony, of course. What can I do?” 

“Good. Open this.” He pushes the prototype towards Steve, and it’s almost laughable how easily Steve pops open the cap, twisting and pushing at the same time. Tony wishes he had the breath left to sigh dramatically. “Now, put this in there.”

Steve manages to fit the vibranium sample into the reactor, then looks between it and Tony’s chest nervously. “Now what?”

Tony lines up the reactor with the edges of his current port and braces himself. “Now you’re going to push, until you really feel it click.” He looks Steve in the eye, then quickly away. “It’s going to hurt me before it helps. It’s fine, just keep going.”

Steve’s throat works as he swallows, but he nods in the end. “Ready?”

“As I’m ever going to be.” Even braced for the pain, electricity still lances white-hot in his veins as the reactor slides into place. When it settles into place with a solid click, Tony is paralyzed with the amount of power ricocheting through his system. He blinks white spots out of his eyes and looks up into the face he’s spent afternoons trying not to memorize, breathing more deeply. “Well? Did I die?”

“You – that might have _killed_ you?” For an assassin, Steve looks awfully horrified at the prospect of Tony dying. 

“I just shoved a piece of untested tech into my system. Yes, Steve, dying painfully was one of the possible outcomes.” Tony takes a deep breath, thankful that he can even do so, and coughs a little. “Jarvis, could I get an update on vital systems?”

“Sir, I am happy to report that all organ systems are receiving sufficient power. According to your vital signs, you should fully recover within minutes.” There’s a slight pause, one that sometimes occurs when Jarvis is compiling information. “It appears that the new reactor is only operating at eighty percent power, due to misaligned connections. Once the power transfer is maximized, I believe you will have excess energy available for ancillary uses.” 

“Well, that is good to know.” Tony heaves himself up with a fair amount of help from Steve, whose concerned hand he brushes off once he’s able to stand on his own. “I think that’ll have to wait ‘til after we get this shitshow straightened out, though.”

“After-? Tony, you’re not going anywhere, you need medical attention-“

“Okay, one: the plans that Obie has are far more important and time-sensitive than my health right now. I know your super friends are more than capable, but I need to see for myself that he’s neutralized, and I have to destroy everything I’ve created for him in the past months. And two-“ Tony stumbles right in the middle of his anti-hero monologue, which is seriously uncool and almost fatal. Thankfully Steve, in all his infuriating perfectness, catches him in time, and Tony exits the rest of the way out of the office pressed up against Steve’s side. 

“And two,” Once they’re in the elevator, Tony can catch his breath again and finish his epic speech, “If you walk me into a hospital, you’re going to spend an hour explaining to people how I can possibly be alive, and the next three trying to find someone who can understand the fucked up mechanics I’ve got going on in my body. And you’re not gong to be able to find anyone because the only person-“ Tony stops, closing his eyes against the momentary wave of anguish. “The only person who knew how to treat me was just shot.”

Steve holds him a little tighter as the elevator slides to a stop on Obiadiah’s floor. “Tony, I know I have no right to say this, but I’m so sorry – “

“Steve.” Tony finally makes the eye contact he’s been avoiding. “We’re trying to make sure Obie’s plans don’t result in the death of any more people, particularly your team. I’m barely standing, and you look about as terrible as I feel. This is really not the time.”

Tony gets to watch in slight amusement as Steve’s jaw clicks shut and he nods. “Later, then.”

Muffled gunshots echo through the door to Obiadiah’s office, shocking the two of them out of the weird staring contest they’re caught in.

Steve bursts through the door while managing to still cradle Tony against him, shield braced in front of them both. He lowers it slowly when he sees Obadiah sprawled on the ground, Pepper still calmly holding the pistol. Steve’s team stands in front of the body, similarly stunned and staring at the civilian with a firearm. 

“Hey, uh. Did we miss the party?” Tony stands up straighter when everyone turns to look at him. “I’ve gotta say, for a bunch of assassins, you’ve managed to kill exactly no people. It doesn’t say much for your productivity.”

“We were assessing the situation and trying to find a resolution with as little violence as possible.” Suit – Coulson, Tony thinks – looks particularly blank faced. And still pretty bad ass, even in flannel pajama bottoms. “Ms. Potts took matters into her own hands.”

“I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t wasting time, Phil.” Pepper clicks the safety back on the gun and places it on the desk, smoothing her hair back behind her ear. “After the scene downstairs, he clearly wasn’t holding back. Every second you wasted meant more people in danger, and honestly, I’m not impressed by your initiative.”

In a stunning show of mirth, Natasha’s mouth quirks up in a half a smile. 

“Now, I’ve just shot a man. I’m going to go have a drink,” She looks Tony over and then gives Steve a critical side-eye, “And take Tony off your hands. I assume someone in this room knows how to dispose of a body?”

Everyone in the room but Tony nods. 

“Right. Of course, you all do.” Pepper opens a drawer of Obie’s desk and takes out what appears to be a hellishly expensive bottle of bourbon. “I’m taking Tony to get medical attention. I will see you all in my office tomorrow morning at ten, not a minute before, and we will figure out what the fuck we’re doing with this company.” She slides an arm around Tony and takes him out of Steve’s hold. Her face does something complicated when she looks between them, and Tony doesn’t protest when she leads him out of the office.

The elevator closes behind them and Pepper sags, all the steel going out of her spine in a rush of air. “Jesus, Tony. Are you alright? Is Yinsen…”

Tony shakes his head in answer to both questions. 

“Oh, god. And Steve was –“ 

Tony nods. “I hit him in the head with a fire extinguisher.” Pepper’s laugh could pass for a sob, and it startles a chuckle out of Tony too. “He went down like a bag of rocks.” Suddenly they’re giggling in the elevator, all the way to Tony’s lab. They stumble out and collapse on the lab couch, Tony only wincing a little at the jostling. They both ignore the tears streaming down each other’s faces with extreme dignity.

“Jarvis, full work up please, and cross reference the prototype scan with the current connection sites in the reactor port. Generate a plan for modifying the current prototype to best fit with ports and configure the ports for highest power conservation.”

“Yes, Sir. And Sir, I must say, it’s good to see you improving.”

“Thanks, J.” Tony settles back and closes his eyes.

“Tony?” He opens a single eye and focuses blearily on Pepper. “What are you going to do?”

He sighs heavily, “I have no fucking clue. I don’t know if he even wants to speak to me ever again, much less be anything like we were before. And – he didn’t kill Yinsen, but he didn’t have nothing to do with it either. I don’t know if I can get past that, Pep.”

She purses her lips and lays her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.”

“…I still love him. I didn’t know I could love someone so much, and I don’t know what to do with that, not with everything I’ve seen.”

“I know, Tony. I wish I knew how to help, but I don’t. I don’t think anyone has ever had this problem before, but we could always ask Cosmo.”

“I don’t think even Cosmo has the answer on this one. Unfortunately, I know what I have to do.” Jarvis alerts them that he’s finished rendering, and Tony gets up to move to the chair with a sigh. “I have to have a goddamn adult conversation about my feelings.”

\--- 

“Well, Clint, you were right on target. Right about three hours and forty-five minutes later, and the breakdown has arrived.”

Steve blinks and looks around, coming out of a daze he only partly remembers. He’s cleaning out his locker, apparently, packing the novels and sketchbooks into a backpack. “What?”

Bucky and Clint share a quick look, taking Steve by the arms and sitting him down on a bunk. Steve has a passing thought to struggle against their hold, but it doesn’t seem worth it. 

“You were in crisis mode.” Bucky settles on the bunk, wriggles uncomfortably, then slides down to the floor. “When you’re in crisis mode, all your feelings get pushed down deep into your feelings hole, and then, once the crisis has passed, they explode out of you like a trauma volcano.”

“Or you implode in on yourself like a very, very depressing sinkhole.” Clint swings himself up onto the top bunk. “And how quickly it gets to meltdown is directly proportional to how much of a shitty situation it is. And this one is mega, ultra fucked up.”

Steve frowns. “I’m a sinkhole?” 

“I think we’re definitely trending more toward sinkhole territory. So, let’s review.” Bucky lays down and kicks his feet up against the bed, counting on his fingers. “You found out that your boytoy isn’t a recluse by choice and has instead been legally dead for about a decade. He’s not just the head of R&D, he’s Howard’s Stark heir and lost son. He also learned that _you_ are a super-secret assassin man. Said boytoy then watched you assault someone he cares about, knocked you over the head with a fire extinguisher – yeah, we saw the footage of that and we’re very disappointed in your reflexes – and then still released you and everyone you care about from our contracts out of the goodness of his heart.”

“After which you saved his life and then watched his other friend murder his former guardian and father figure who had stabbed him in the back. Which, honestly,” Clint leans over the edge of the bunk with stars in his eyes, “Was super badass. I’m a little in love.”

“Don’t let Coulson hear you talking like that. The point is, it’s been a wild day and you’re here pouting with us, not talking things out with him. Why not?”

“Because of all those things!” Steve would feel bad for shouting, but he's had enough. “Because he had to watch me attack his friend, because someone he once cared very much about almost _killed_ him, and because I had to shove my hand into his chest and cause him massive amounts of pain to make sure he didn't die. And because Tony has been through absolute hell today, and the last thing he needs right now is me hanging around like an infection that won’t go away.”

“Okay first, ew.” Clint says, after a brief pause, “Second, does that mean you’re just gonna sit here with us and give up on fixing your relationship?”

Steve puts his head in his hands. “There’s nothing left to fix. I closed that door the minute I walked into that lab, I doubt he’ll ever want to see me again.”

Bucky and Clint share a glance, and Bucky sighs. “Listen, I don’t know Tony like you do, and I don’t want to know Tony like you do, but from what I do know, he doesn’t seem like the type to appreciate people deciding what’s best for him. Especially after being shut away for the last ten years.”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “Well, when you put it that way.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m a font of knowledge regarding interpersonal communication.” Bucky hoists himself to his feet and holds a hand out to Steve. “Now c’mon. Coulson and Tasha have to be done hiding the body by now, and they’re going to be pissed if we miss the meeting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think? This is my first fic with like Real Emotional Problems and if I'm handling them well/badly, please let me know


	8. Chapter 8

“Good morning and thank you all for coming on such short notice. We have some announcements to make about the future of Stark Industries. There will be a press release once we’re finished here, but we wanted to present some changes in person.”

To look at her, Steve never would have guessed that Pepper had shot a man dead only hours before. Perfectly pressed and poised, she looks as if she had stepped up to the podium from the pages of a fashion magazine. Or he assumes, anyway. Steve doesn’t read a lot of fashion magazines.

He’s almost calm, at least until he looks Tony’s way again, at which point Steve’s stomach ends up in his throat. Standing on Pepper’s right, Tony himself looks wired, his smile a little too wide, his eyes too tight and anxious. What Steve really wants is to be able to go to him and smooth away the stress with a joke or just a nudge, and the knowledge that he can’t is like a physical ache. 

“Firstly, Obadiah Stane has taken an unexpected leave of absence from his position as CEO. He left the office some time last night, and we haven’t heard from him since. Once the requisite 48 hours have passed, we will be filing a police report. We hope all is well and that he returns safely. In the meantime, I will be taking over as interim CEO.” 

Pepper is a marvelous actress, and even Tony manages to look at least slightly concerned, but Steve isn’t too worried about people looking too hard for Obadiah Stane. The man wasn’t well loved to say the least and in Steve’s experience, as long as the company still provides organs to people who need them, people are content to look the other way.

If nothing else, Natasha is truly accomplished at hiding bodies, and there’s no way anyone will be stumbling over Stane any time soon.

“Secondly, I am pleased to announce that Anthony Stark will be resuming his post as Chief Scientific Officer and head of the Research and Development Division. And no,” She raises her voice a little to cut off the few interjected questions, “We will not be taking questions about where he has been since his disappearance from society. Mr. Stark asks that you respect his privacy.” 

Steve can feel the force of Tony’s eye roll all the way from the back of the stage, and he has to fight not to join in. To his right, Bucky and Clint are snickering at the reporters practically salivating for a story and placing bets on which ones are gonna draw first blood. Natasha and Phil, on the other side, practically radiate disapproval at the entire spectacle.

“We will now take a few questions.” As the hands fly into the air, Pepper gestures gracefully to a young reporter.

He fairly bounces out of his chair in excitement. “Peter Parker, from The Daily Bugle; Aren’t these business practices a little worrying? People have been worried about Stark Industries’ lack of transparency for years, and this hasn’t been any different. What are you doing to prove that this really is a new direction?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” It appears Tony has finally reached his limit, and Pepper acquiesces the podium to him with a practiced sidestep and a sigh. 

“Listen, let’s be honest for a minute. For the past fifteen years Stark Industries has been taking advantage of the poor and sick and selling meaningless upgrades to the rich and pointless. I should know, I am a personification of everything that has gone wrong with this company.” 

Tony pauses, smiling this bitter, sad smile that just makes Steve want to hug him. “But that’s why I’m going to fix it. Because all of the things that Stark Industries has done have been wrong, and predatory,” he says, with a quick glance back at all of the former Repossessions Crew, “but desperate people can’t be blamed for the decisions they make in tragic situations. Or for what they do to keep their family together.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat because what Tony’s saying sounds dangerously like forgiveness.

“So, using brand new technology based on recent breakthroughs in bio-tech integration, we’re going to get people the organs and treatment they need, for free. We’re going to subsidize it by selling clean arc reactor technology, creating a world we all will want to live in. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s going to work.”

Skinny, brave little Peter Parker pipes up again. “Uh, how can you be so sure?”

Tony smiles again but this time it’s not so bitter. It’s sad, determined, and 100% Tony.   
“Because I am I.R.O.N. Man. I am every single bad thing you’ve heard about me, and a million more you haven’t. But since I’m the product of my father’s greed, it’s my responsibility to fix it and prove that SI is better than that. And I’m damn well going to succeed.” 

Steve almost laughs at how fast the kid is scribbling, or he would if he wasn’t listening single-mindedly to Tony, hope and despair warring in his chest. 

Pepper crosses to the podium again and places a gentle hand on Tony’s arm. “Mr. Stark will be taking no more questions. We’ll be sending out more press releases later in the week, but for now we thank you for your time.” Tony barely stays until the end of her sentence, walking briskly away and off the stage. 

Steve looks to Coulson and receives a brisk nod before following Tony out, placing himself between Tony and the rows of reporters shouting for his attention. He feels naked without his shield, but Pepper felt that the sleek black suits they’re all sporting, rather than their old gear, would send a better message. He follows Tony into the elevator, and as the doors close Tony releases a tense sigh. 

“Honestly, I think I liked it better when they thought I was dead.”

An uncontrollable snort escapes Steve, though he tries valiantly to school his face serious again. He catches Tony sneaking a look out him out of the corner of his eye and gives up on hiding his amusement. Some of the tension drains out of Tony’s figure, and he relaxes even more once he steps out onto the lawn of the rooftop park.

“Jarvis, lock the entrances to the park, make sure no one gets in while we’re here.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Tony flops down onto the grass, unconcerned with the designer suit he’s covering with grass stains. Steve continues to stand stiffy by the entrance to the elevator, hands clasped behind him. 

“Are you planning on joining me or am I gonna to have to drag you?”

Even with the earlier joke in the elevator, Steve still hadn’t thought that Tony would still be speaking to him. “Uh, well, as part of your security team, I should really– “ 

“Ugh, Steve, really? If you’re my bodyguard you’re supposed to be guarding my body.” He looks over at Steve’s unimpressed expression and sighs at him. “Just get your ass over here, Rogers. We need to talk.”

“Oh, uh.” Steve steps over and lowers himself to the ground a good two feet from Tony. 

“Good lord, I’m not going to bite.” Tony leers a little. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Steve snorts again. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop making me laugh.” He bites down on a smile. “I’m pretty sure you had something else in mind by bringing me out here.”

Tony sighs. “You’re right, but I figured making you laugh would be easier than talking about our feelings.”

“Sure, it is.” Steve looks down at his hands. “You’ve always been able to make me laugh, Tony. I’ve never felt more like myself, or less like a monster, than when I’m with you.”

“Okay, no. Absolutely not.” Tony sits up fully and turns to face Steve. “We’re gonna stop that train of thought right there.”

“What?”

“I’m not dancing around this shit.” Tony’s mouth sets in a firm line. “Steve, do you think I’m an abomination?”

“_What?_” He’s shocked into meeting Tony’s tired, fierce gaze. “Of course not, why would you think that?”

“Because from the minute I was born I was a walking, talking science experiment. I was operated on for the first time when I was nine.” Tony breaks their eye contact and starts shredding the grass under his fingers. “You never knew Howard Stark, or at least I don’t think you ever formally met, but he wasn’t ever going to be the world’s greatest dad. Not that he would have cared, he never tried to hide that Stark Industries would always be his biggest focus. A lot of what was done later was necessary, from when I was young and angry and tried pretty hard to destroy my body. Drugs, drinking, physical exhaustion, you name it, I’ve done it over and over again. I’ve been put under and operated on so many times I’ve lost track. If you asked, Jarvis could tell you the exact percentage of original human I have left in my body, but believe me, it’s not a lot.”

“About fifteen percent, sir,” Jarvis interjects from Tony’s pocket. 

“Thank you, Jarvis, for answering a question I didn’t ask.” Tony rolls his eyes. “The point is, there are certain philosophers that would argue that I’m not even fully human, and others who would say that I’m a freak of nature – “

“Tony, _stop,_ you’re not a freak. How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true!” Tony fling his arms up, pieces of grass flying everywhere. “Everything I said at the press briefing, most of the things that reporters have said about me over the years – except the story about the bachelorette party and the goats, that was completely false – has been true.”

“Actually, sir, about the goats – “

Tony takes his phone out of his pocket and throws it back towards the elevator door.

“Nosy AI, always listening in. I’m gonna nerf him one of these days.” Tony leans back in and looks Steve directly in the eye. “Steve. I am the personification of my father’s greed and ambition. At this point, we can safely say that I’m more material than man. You got a first-hand look at the mess I’ve got keeping my heart beating, and you saw how that cost Yinsen his life and almost cost me mine. So tell me – “ He spreads his arms wide and cocks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you call me an abomination?”

“_No._”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with his hands, with his body, he’s got too much nervous energy, so he gets up and starts pacing across the small patch of grass where they sit. “No, Tony, I wouldn’t. You didn’t ask for any of that. What your father did, what Obadiah did, none of that could have been your fault. I don’t think you can be made to answer for their crimes, especially not for what they made you do as a fucking child. They kept you in a cage, which is a crime in itself, and forced you to be their golden goose, using your health to keep you contained. You had no choice, you were just trying to stay alive.” 

“Interesting.” Tony has that light in his eyes again, the one he has when he’s unraveling a complicated problem. “So, you’re saying that I shouldn’t be held accountable for the things I was forced to do when I was defenseless and concerned for the health and safety of the people around me?”

Steve squints at him. “I think so? But I don’t like your tone.”

Tony laughs. “Steve. Steve, can’t you see? If you can’t blame me for those things, how can I blame you for the contracts you and your incredibly vulnerable friends were trapped into?”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I am going to need a lot of therapy to get over the image of you in your leather get up in Yinsen’s lab.” Tony swallows and the light in his eyes dims a little. “But if you had known what he was to me, would you have taken the job?”

“No, of course not.” Steve sits back down in front of Tony and takes one of his hands gently. “I wouldn’t have gotten near him if I had known. None of us would have. For what it’s worth, we’ve been looking for a way out for years. Coulson too; he was the first person who really cared about any of us. You’ve been the second. And I know I’ve said it already, but Tony, I’m so sorry about what happened to Yinsen. I know he meant a lot to you.”

Tony smiles a little. “He did. He always will. But I think he’d be proud with the direction we’re going in, and that’s what is really important.” He stares at their clasped hands. “So. A lot of therapy.”

Steve nods enthusiastically. “_So_ much therapy.”

“A truly unreasonable amount of therapy. And I know it might be a bit weird, being with your boss. Although if you think about it, this opens up some _very_ interesting roleplay scenarios – “ 

“_Tony._”

“Too soon? Okay, too soon.” The smile is back on Tony’s face, only a hint of shadow showing it was ever gone. “But I want to give this a shot. I’m – I’m pretty stupidly gone over you, and that’s not changing anytime soon.”

“Me too, god, Tony I’m there too. I wouldn’t trade meeting you for the world, and now that we get to have a real chance at this?” He leans forward to touch their foreheads together. “I swear, I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again. They’re going to have to go through me first.”

“You’re such a sap, Rogers.”

“Shut it, Stark.” And Steve leans in to seal his pronouncement with a kiss.

\--- 

And that, Dear Reader, is how the Stark Industries reign of terror comes to an understated end. The lost heir emerges from the shadows and becomes the leader the industry had been missing. 

(Although it’s common knowledge that his former PA does most of the leading, and everyone is much happier for it.)

And his ripper turned protector? He learns to embrace the more sedate aspects of his job, and finds enjoyment in the sweeter things in life, like the gorgeous inventor who now shares his bed. He’s still a leader in his own way, but he no longer shuts a part of himself away each night.

His team learns to adjust as well. Some stay on at Stark Industries, and some disappear into the shadows. The archer becomes a landlord and guards his tenants like family. His bureaucrat boyfriend loves their home away from the Tower and enjoys a more equal work-life balance.

The assassins stay on at the company, for the most part. They disappear for months at a time, but they always return to their found family in the end. 

(No one comments on the protectors that now prowl the streets, ensuring that the weak and defenseless are never again exploited. The only people that fear them have good reason to, and more often than not they’re left at the door of the police station to be punished to the fullest extent of the law.)

Perhaps this is where their story ends. Or maybe there are more adventures in their future. Either way, the most important thing is that they’ll never face them alone. 

And with that thought, Steve Rogers finishes his night’s work and returns home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I'm so sorry for the long break, moving took more out of me than I thought it would, and it took me a while to come back to this. I hope this ending is at least semi-realistic, and if not, well, it's fanfiction. Believe me, there is a lot of therapy in everyone's future, but I think they're all better for it.
> 
> Kudos would be lovely, and be sure to leave a comment if you have something to say! I love hearing from people and I promise I'll respond!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Questions/comments, please send them my way here or at shipalltheboats on tumblr!


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